Pictures: Village of Abydos

Who were these men…Strange strangers at the gate

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni Warrior

I had a “run-in”, of sorts, this week and when it was over, I retained bad feelings about the whole encounter.

My Master was on gate duty and he was having some rather odd interaction with a few questionable Gorean males. They spoke a strange dialect, which made the questioning even more difficult than normal.

These strangers at the gate were acting like urts, looking like urts, and boy did they smell ripe. Oh excuse me; I am not to criticize the free. Now, there is no way I will try to soften that. I mean picture a bosk; picture all the long hair on that wondrous mammal. Now think about the heat at the highest point of La Torvis on a day in the middle of En’Var. The bosk has been lying down in its filth. Now if you inhale deeply you will have the scent of these strangers at the gate. My eyes were starting to water and so I excused myself from my Master’s side, feigning some malaise or other. I ran to the gate that took me to the inside walls where I climbed 3 flights of stairs to get to the top of the walls. Once up there, I inhaled deeply of the cool breeze that was blowing off the Olni River. I stayed on the wall until my eyes cleared and my stomach stopped churning.

I came around to my senses and went back down the walls and into the gate keepers fortress and peeked through the notch to observe the going’s on at the gate well out of range of my olfactory’s. The exchange between these male stink machines and my Master was not heading in any plausible direction. I came out and knelt by the inside commons gates. It was about as close as one could get without passing out from the noxious off gassing from their collective personages. I looked above to the landing of the warrior’s hall and there stood Captain Atlas with a bemused look on his face. I wanted to shout to him to get closer to the action down below, thinking that I would see a very different look on his face once he breathed deeply of the fetid cloud that surrounded these strangers.

They claimed to be from Vonda. I found that fact ludicrous. I have been to Vonda and all I can remember was the scented oils and delicious food smells. Vonda’s citizens appeared bright and shiny in their clean robes and tunics. The slave’s seemed well arranged and sweet smelling. How were these escapee’s from the cesspool related to those lovely folk in Vonda? I immediately thought, “These men are from Treve and they have come to case the joint.” My jaw dropped when my Master, having no reason to keep them out of Port Olni, opened the gate, checked them for bows, and opened the gate to the commons.

Another slave came to join me. Since this slave was newly acquired by the House of Spiritweaver, her name was 3040. This 3040 knelt next to me and wanted to know the skinny on the gate hubbub. I started to tell her when the strange, malodorous trio came over to 3040 and myself. They loomed large in body and in scent. I looked over to the other kajira and I could see her eyes start to water from the stench. I could not help but laugh and I was immediately chastised by one Master Fetid. If that wasn’t his name, it should have been. I immediately offered my services to bring them hot food and drink. They ignored this offer and just stood there making grunting noises. The vocalizations emanating from the pie holes in their faces went something like this: “ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhh, ahhhhh, piss piss, piss piss, hog, and hog hog.” They also kept putting a “Z” in front of every noun. For instance, “Z” slut, “Z” gate, “Z” ale, etc. I kept wondering who the hell “Z” was.

This was all confusing to say the least. They stopped all their grunting to demand that they be taken to the tavern. This I dutifully did. I watched my Master through the bars of the gate, frowning at him as I passed. I mean, I loved serving in the commons; you get to meet so many travelers, it gives you a chance to hobnob with the good citizen’s of Olni. But…in the tavern, Gorean males usually have other needs which I was not willing to fulfill at the moment. I was not disappointed in my supposition, for once the doors of the tavern slammed, the odor crew demanded sexual acts. The slave 3040 was a little disconcerted and I was glad she was there to help “relieve the burden”. One of the strangers, who were ostensibly from Vonda, was mute because of having his tongue sliced off. It is really too bad he did not have his tongue, it might have been better if he had lost his nose. The mute one kept saying, “ahhhhhh, ahhhhhh, ahhhhhh…” while forcing the head of 3040 into his lap. The other two, amused themselves with pouring ale over my head for kissing the side of the tankard and deciding which one was going to use my mouth first.

I have poured over the scrolls of the historian Master Norman as my Master has directed me in his lessons. I realize that this tavern travesty was not unknown in the past on the planet Gor. Gorean males are sexy beasts to be sure. Please forgive me for using the word “beast” but it is an apt descriptor of Gorean man meat. Furring is usually on their minds. Although, it has been my experience that when a free man uses me, he turns into a romance machine. These men desire bathing in hot scented pools of water and being massaged with delicious oils. It is a delight to pleasure them at these times. The historian writes of males who take what they want, when they want. This is as it should be and I do remember that the historian admonished, “If it is not beautiful, it is not Gorean.” It appears that the historian, Master Norman, has put us all on notice. We all need to have within us, exquisite beauty. I mean really, what are we all residents of Port Kar or Treve? I think not. We are people of cosmopolitan thinking, for the most part. On earth there was a word being popularized among the dwellers. It was a “made up” word to define a male cosmopolite. The word was “metro sexual”. I think I have translated it into the Gorean with sufficient aplomb.

Not to say that Gorean males should go around carrying a fresh pair of panties in their back packs, but rather be groomed for the odd occasion that may present itself when searching for someone to couple with. Every slave thinks fondly of such encounters with males who manscape and smell like a fresh breeze off Thassa.

Once again, I digress. You see, this humiliating show was witnessed, through the foggy window by passers by. I wondered if my Master would appear through the doors to oversee this episode in my life. I was unaware that his duties increased at the gate and he was detained. I felt ill-treated by these fish-monger’s bastards. This is one of the few times since arriving here that I was in fear for my life. They made veiled references to our displeasing them and the punishment that they could reign down on 3040’s head and my own.

When they tired of amusing themselves with us, they made a beeline for the gate and to the docks.

I followed my Master as he opened the gates. He closed them after the gas clouds left. He stood looking out the gate and I sat in silence. After a few ehn he turned to me and looked down as if to say, “Oh, you’re here.” He said, “Something is wrong, you seemed vexed.” I was happy that my change in tone, resorting to my “Mr. Roboto” voice, caught his attention. I was mumbling things under my breath; some of them caught the eardrums of Captain Atlas. When that warrior asked if I had said anything, I told him I was remarking about the lovely new flowers on the hills. My Master knew better than to buy into my deception. After the warrior left, my Master started using the third degree on me.
“My slut”, he said, “those men were of Vonda, and they would not dare to hurt you. And I pray that you pleased the free as you know you should.” I snorted at the “Vonda” part.
He went on to say, “I do not wish you to be harmed in the least and I am pretty certain that I have expressed my love for you. Do you doubt that?”
I replied, “I try not to think on it too much my Master. Since a slave should not be curious about whether someone loves them or not. It is unbecoming to a slave. I serve you to the best of my ability. I serve with passion and try to live up to my slave paces. I am not required to do any more I believe. I am your property after all.” I could tell that this cut him to the quick. It was impudent of me to give such a cold answer after the kindnesses he has extended to my unworthy self.
He cleared his throat, lifted my chin and said quietly, “Teal, I love you with all my heart. You are my love slave. There is no other and that is my final word on that.”
I know my Master to be a Gorean of integrity. I knew he was telling me the truth. I said happily…”My Master lets go home and soak in the tub and then afterward……..”

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 152

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